


Cheonsa [Angel]

by MochiByun



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Ghost!AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-16 21:02:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11260941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MochiByun/pseuds/MochiByun
Summary: Being haunted by an annoying ghost after getting dumped was definitely not in Chanyeol's weekly plans.





	1. Prologue

10.07.2016

8:59 pm

 

They were standing on the less crowded part of the bridge overlooking the beautiful Hangang River. Seoul’s city lights and festive lanterns casting colorful reflections on the surface. Chanyeol and Shin-a stood waiting for the fireworks.

 

It was a comfortable silence, or maybe he just liked to ignore the tension between them.

 

 

_“10! 9!”_

 

 

“I love you,” she said while she stared into nothing, voice calm but underlying with unmistakable melancholy.

 

Maybe it wasn’t comfortable, it was merely familiar. A familiar tension he’s come to live with.

 

 

_“8! 7!”_

 

 

“I love you too,” he said after a few beats of what felt like forever.

 

She looked at him, eyes searching and imploring, “But loving doesn’t mean staying,”

Was it a question? A statement? Or a demand?

 

But she was right. What was the purpose of staying when everything was fading? It was neither sudden nor shocking. They were just gradually drifting apart although living and breathing in the same space. Chanyeol felt trapped, like a fish in a pond with her, always swimming but forever static and stuck in the same place.

 

“Let’s break up, Yeol.”

 

  
  


 

 

 

And they did.

And static as they may be, it still hurt like a bitch.

 

 

 

 _“3! 2! 1!”_ The fireworks erupted, a similar explosion in his chest but with a broken heart in its wake.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

10.08.2016

8:59 am

 

_“The boy, identified as Byun Baekhyun, a 22-year-old student and part time pianist, was pronounced dead after he had allegedly committed suicide by jumping off the Hangang bridge on the 7th of October during the annual fireworks display. The specific cause of death has not been disclosed…_

_This is Yang Min Hye reporting live at Hangang River Bridge"_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

10.10.2016.

11:25 pm

 

A few days later and Chanyeol was in a bar drowning the guilt and what if’s with alcohol. He was on his 5th shot of a mix of rum and whiskey and regret when he saw a boy materialize out of thin air. Everything was a blur except for the boy and he was hyper-aware of him despite his intoxicated state. _What the fuck was in his shots?_ He mentally noted not to let Jongdae mix his drinks anymore. The boy was sitting on a high stool staring at him. His small brown eyes looked mischievous, like he was hiding a funny little secret. There was a familiarity to him that he couldn’t quite place. Chanyeol could only stare back. By the time he stood to approach the boy, he just vanished. Poof. Just like that. _What the fuck._

 

Four more shots later and Chanyeol was a stumbling mess. Face planted on the cold bar counter, he faintly remembered even colder dainty fingers tracing the apple of his cheek.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

10.11.2016

3:00 am

 

Black. All black. Wait no, the lights were off and his eyes were closed, _oh_ , but he’s too tired to open them. The sheets underneath him were so so warm but his throat was burning. He was dehydrated but so tired. He felt something cool against his lips and a soft voice telling him to drink. The water was so soothing. He opened his bleary eyes. It was the same boy. He looked like an angel.

 

“Are you an angel?” he said, mind still disoriented.

“I could be,” the boy said, mischievous smirk playing on his lips.

 

“Now sleep Chanyeollie,”

 

He felt the same cold hand caressing his eyelids close. It was the most peaceful sleep he’d had in days.

  
  
  
  
  
  


 

  
  
10.11.2016

9:48 am

 

Chanyeol woke up with a hangover and fleeting memories. He was wearing different clothes from yesterday. _Huh, weird_.

 

He sat up with a groan, his head splitting in half. He must’ve looked and smelled like roadkill, _fuck I'm too ugly to die right now_. He spotted a glass of water and aspirin by the side table and took it. There was a letter under the aspirin. _Huh, did he have someone over last night?_

 

After downing the meds he gingerly took the letter. There was no message, just a doodle of a pair of wings. Chanyeol groaned. It was too early for him to think. Fuck nice strangers and cryptic angel wings.

 

 _Angel_ wings.

 

Suddenly fleeting memories of ebony hair and cold fingers rushed to him. It was honestly very disconcerting. He refused to let his mind wander into the impossible. Stubborn as ever, he blamed the alcohol and inwardly thanked the strange boy for at least not leaving him to die in some ditch.

 

As he left there was a nagging feeling telling him that there was more than meets the eye about the boy.

 

He failed to notice that the door latch was locked from the inside.

 

 

 

 

 

  
  



	2. 1 - "Boo."

**1**

The sun is high up in the sky, penetrating through the office window and hitting Chanyeol right in the face. Well fuck you too Sunshine. It’s still fairly good weather though. Slight hangover aside, it’s all good; moderate paperwork, no vein popping traffic, coffee maker in the office was running fine which was a rarity Chanyeol greatly indulged in, it was all 80% good except Jongdae was being a little –

 

“Shit,” Jongdae deadpans, “you look like absolute shit.”

 

Trust Kim Jongdae, self proclaimed reporter extraordinaire, with his candid honesty to deliver him the news of the morning. _Think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts, think happy_ \--- He can’t delude himself into thinking that this was a perfect Monday morning when he could detect Jongdae’s cocky smirk even when hidden behind his obnoxious ‘Hottest Employee’ cup.

 

And truth be told, Chanyeol did look and feel like shit. He was nothing like his usual clean shaven face and slicked back hair. His eyebags spoke volumes of how little he had been sleeping. _His belt color didn’t match his shoes for Christ’s sake_. As much as Chanyeol likes to think everything is absolutely fine and dandy, it isn’t. He’s grasping at straws to make this day feel as good as he wants it to be but the universe has a personal vendetta against him, so it seems.

 

So Chanyeol opts at rolling his eyes at his co-worker, “And you’re hobbit sized. Geez, stop stating the obvious, Dae”

 

“Fun sized, mind you.” said hobbit corrects with a matter-of-fact face and a wiggle of a finger.

 

“Aaand you’re self-aware. Almighty Park Chanyeol not denying he’s looking like shit? That’s new. What happened man, spill.”

 

Chanyeol all but greatly flashes him an eloquent answer in the form of a middle finger.

 

“Not stupid to fall for this office gossip trap again. Fuck you.”

 

"Dude, I would never stoop that low. My height won't permit that."

 

Chanyeol raises an eyebrow, _are you kidding me?_ written on his face.

 

“Okay fine, that one time was a bet and we didn’t expect you to really admit to watching – _Ow_!”

 

“Oops, accidentally threw my pen on your face,” Chanyeol says, triumphant smirk and all.It was nice. How he can still banter in the office despite the cloud hanging above his head. He's at least sure things will somehow come to a pass.

 

Jongdae rolls his eyes in exasperation but in a flicker his face morphs into that of seriousness. It was quite intriguing how Jongdae could transition from his usual cheeky eat shitting grin and into dead set eyes with a seriousness and openness empty of any false pretense. “Okay, fine. The thing is I’m worried about you man. You’ve been spacing out for days. Even boss is worried and we all know he’s a bit of a cold hearted bitch. What happened?” There is genuine concern in his voice and Chanyeol knows he can trust Jongdae to have his back despite being the resident gossip king.

 

It doesn’t compel him to spill his heart out though. He simply doesn’t want to talk about it.

 

“It’s nothing. Just a hangover and I’ve been busy with a bit of renovating and all.” It wasn’t completely untrue. He did drink, and he is tired from moving Shina’s boxes filled with her stuff; their memories, albeit more emotionally than physically.

 

Jongdae isn’t buying it though.

 

“Dude, a hangover doesn’t last for nearly a week. And l’ve known you for 4 years, Chan, you don’t drink for nothing so that ‘nothing’s’ definitely something.” Jongdae’s cat like lips were frowning and the sun on Chanyeol’s face was getting annoying. He blames those for the tightening in his chest.

 

Chanyeol settles on spinning his pen and pretends to read the papers in front of him. The tightening doesn’t stop.

 

“Are you stressed from planning your proposal? I mean you’ve been—“

  
  


_Crack_.

  
  


“There won’t be a proposal. Not tomorrow, not ever.” He says, voice louder and more bitter than he’d intended.

 

And the tightening caused a crack. He cracked. Just a bit, but he did and it’s all about to rush out bit by bit.

 

“Oh.” He hears Jongdae say. He couldn’t look at him. The atmosphere turned a quick 180 degrees and despite Chanyeol’s internal tirade of self pity he still feels like a shitty friend for making Jongdae put up with him.

 

“I’m fine though,” Chanyeol offers with a half-hearted tight-lipped smile, “I’m coping better than expected.” I haven’t died of alcohol intoxication and that’s better than expected.

 

Jongdae has his hand in his pocket, a nervous habit, and takes a sip from his tightly held mug that Chanyeol was pretty sure is empty, “That’s… er… That’s… wow… I mean you’ve been planning to propose for weeks now… I mean,” he clears his throat and in a second he regains some composure, breaking away from the uncharacteristic awkwardness, “it sucks but you could always talk to us, okay? Minseok and Sehun and I, we’ll always be here, okay?” He says with a tentative but assuring smile on his face. Chanyeol knew he meant it and he was honestly glad for that.

 

“Thanks, man. I—“

 

A giggle.

 

Suddenly all the hair on his body are standing up, goosebumps erupting. Beyond Jongdae’s shoulder, he sees a flash of ebony hair and mischievous brown eyes. It felt like he saw him in tunnel vision. An unmistakable figure sitting on the chair on the corner of his cubicle. _The same boy as last night_.

 

He blinks. And he’s gone.

 

A snap of a finger breaks him off his trance and he sees Jongdae waving a hand in front of his face. “Yeol, are you there? Stop buffering, man, you’re weirding me out.”

 

“I…” He sneaks a tentative glance over Jongdae’s shoulder where he was sitting. “I’m fine. Just… er… distracted… for a second.” He sounds unconvincing even to his own ears.

 

Jongdae puts a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, I was serious when I said I’ll be here.”

 

“Thanks.” He flashes him a more genuine smile this time but he can’t shake off the apprehension under his skin.

 

“I’ll leave you here, okay man? Try not to kill yourself.” Chanyeol nods.

 

 He really needs a cup of coffee.

  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
  


The apprehension doesn’t leave.

It’s like being constantly enveloped in someone’s presence. A shift of energy, a disorienting awareness that leaves him looking behind his back, to his sides, on the clean cut overheads of the ceiling. He’s not scared. He’s unsettled.

  
  


He falls asleep during a meeting.

A cold fleeting touch on his hand.

 

He trips on his way to the restroom.

He hears a merry giggle.

 

He scans the office.

He sees a mischievous pair of eyes meet his.

If he wasn’ hallucinating then he hopes to whatever higher beings above that it was an angel.

 

The boy wasn't scary per se but it was all very disconcerting. Was he hallucinating from fatigue? That seems like the logical explanation. Was he… experiencing the supernatural? That seems like the common explanation. Illogical, but possible. All these boundless possibilities and his mind forces on zeroing in on the latter. _Oh he’s screwed_.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
  


It’s been hours ever since the first hair raising incidents but it felt like such a long, long time. So he rests his head on his arms placed on top of his desk and lets the sounds of typing and Jongdae’s incessant out of tune singing lull him to sleep.

 

Since the universe obviously holds a grudge against him for some ancestor’s mistake or something as Chanyeol begrudgingly thinks, someone wakes him up just right when he was on the precipice of sleep.

 

He blinks groggily up at Zhang Yixing, one of the column journalists, and his deceptively sweet, dimpled smile.

 

“Hey, Chanyeol, man.” Yixing says as he tosses a neat folder towards him.

 

“What’s this?”

 

Yixing subtly looks around, wary of nosy officemates.

 

“I don't know.” He says in his usual drawl. “One of boss’s… er… special projects.”

 

They exchange knowing looks.

 

Chanyeol heaves out a sigh. “Fine.”

 

Yixing smiles his laid-back dimpled smile and  extends a hand to pat his shoulder. “Thanks, man. Knew I could count on ya.”

 

Chanyeol knows what he has to do but he doesn't know what or who could be in the folder. Details… the usual pictures and fallacious text from his boss, that's what he's sure of. He stashes it away in his drawer for another time.

 

For now he wants to get away from his boss, Shina, and _him_. So he sleeps and says fuck you to everything like the grateful guy that he is.

  
  
  


  
  


 

 

 

  
  


_“Do I know you?” Chanyeol asks perplexed but in awe._

_“Hmmm,” The boy takes his time mock pondering with lithe fingers drumming against his cheek then the next moment he materializes behind Chanyeol, abruptness and the radiating coldness making him jump back and welp in surprise, “I'm so hurt you don’t even remember me Chanyeol-ah.” He says yet again in mock hurt._

_Chanyeol doesn’t know where he is but he feels light and he should be berating himself for the unusual casualty but none of this feels real._

_“Stop playing games with me. Who are you?” What are you was what he wanted to say._

_A giggle._

_“Look inside your drawer, Chanyeol-ah.”_

  
  
  


 

Chanyeol wakes up but doesn't look inside his drawer.

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
  
  


_Pitter patter_. A few drops on his nose. Chanyeol looks up and… oh it's raining. A few more drops then the sky suddenly pours down rain hard.

 

The rain drowns out his senses but he can hear a pair of feet hopping on the growing puddles. A tune was playing somewhere, penetrating through his ears, but surely it isn't resonating from anywhere. Maybe it was in his mind? _It's him again, probably._

 

He snaps out of his reverie and rushes to the covered sidewalk, determined to reach his apartment as soon as possible.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

His apartment is nothing special. Big enough for 3 people with white walls and hardwood flooring. It's relatively commendable though for a guy his age. 24 years old, still slightly fresh from graduation and he’s already living completely independently from his parents for the past 3 years.

 

Maybe before he would've felt so proud of his place. It was imperfect but it had traces of life. Now it's too bare and cold. Even with Shina around it felt like the two of them were both ghosts living in the same time but moving in different parallel worlds. of course it wasn't always like that. They were happy once as shown in the several trinkets and memories scattered around the place but times change and so did Shina’s heart. Chanyeol knew they were turning into strangers but he held into that once happiness and now he was reaping the consequences of his shortsighted and foolish grip on hope.

 

Dripping wet, he closes the door, aware of the shifting in the air again, stubbornly, he ignores it.

He peels off his wet clothes sticking on his skin piece by piece. The cold air caresses his wet skin leaving shivers and goosebumps in its wake, he hastily wipes himself dry and picks warm clothes in his closet.

 

He’s about to put his black shirt on when he sees a shadow moving. Frantically he shrugs it on in record speed.

 

He can feel eyes on him.  __He's tired, damn _it._

 

“Can't you let me change in peace?!” He shouts, the cold and the stress finally getting to him.

 

“But where’s the fun in that?” He hears a soft raspy voice answer from somewhere in the room.

 

He _did not_ expect an answer.

 

“WHAT THE FUCK?” He looks all around for the source of the voice, heart hammering wildly in his chest.

 

He feels a cold shiver on his neck and then--

 

“Boo.”

 

Chanyeol jumps like the floor is lava and gives out the unmanliest shriek he’s ever emitted in his entire life. He ends up in a tangled mess with the lamp and wires, looking directly up at _him_.

 

He squats down so they're eye level, cheek resting on his hand like a curious little child and giggles.

 

“You’re very jumpy.”

 

He gives him an incredulous look,  _because_   _how can he not be jumpy?_

 

“Your back muscles are nice by the way.” He says casually, as if he's talking about the weather and as if he wasn't some fucking supernatural entity responsible for Chanyeol's current existential crisis.

 

Chanyeol could only stare bug eyed and mouth gaping at a loss for words. He could see him clearly now, all soft cheeks, small glinting eyes, and black fluffy hair. He doesn't look scary at all. But he doesn't feel natural, Chanyeol thinks.

 

The boy lifts a dainty hand towards him and Chanyeol scrambles backwards.

 

“Wh-who are you?” He doesn't mean to stutter but all sense of dignity was gone the moment he had a shrieking episode and really, what does it matter to a ghost?

 

“Am I not familiar to you?” The boy cocks his head to the right, “Not at all?”

 

Chanyeol heaves himself upwards from the floor; vaguely wishing his imposing height on the smaller would help in regaining his composure.

 

“You're…” he racks his brain. Then it clicks, “ _You're the boy who jumped off Hangang River bridge_.” He whispers but his voice resonates everywhere and it rings in his own ears.

 

The company had intended to broadcast his story but it was an unusual case. A body was recovered, but the medical records and the specific reason of death were never disclosed. There was inefficient information and not many broadcasted it either.

 

His eyes seem to flicker with disappointment for a second and Chanyeol reconsiders until the boy’s eyes glint in mischief again. “And the 'boy’ who saved your sorry drunk ass yesterday.”

 

Chanyeol _remembers_.

 

“What’s your name?” He asks cautiously. He has so many questions. _How does he know me? Why is he following me? Why does he look so familiar? How could he have been tangible yesterday?_

 

“Byun Baekhyun.” he says, eyes twinkling.

 

“And if you haven't noticed by now, I'm a spirit.” He floats further up until he’s sitting cross legged midair, as if to accentuate his point.

 

Chanyeol was about to pass out at this point.

 

 

And pass out he did.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
